I know, I know, it was Mother’s Day on Sunday and what did I write about on Monday? The last ever Being Human!
Don’t judge me yet, there is method to my madness. You see, Sunday was indeed Mother’s Day here in the UK but next Monday is also my mum’s birthday. So, at this half way point is when I will write my ode to mum, which is only fair after my ode to dad on Father’s Day last year.
There are two massively important things in my life; films and writing. My dad gave me my love of films, my mum is the reason I’m a writer.
When I was a baby, she made up songs and stories for me. When I was a little older, we made up stories together. When I started writing on my own, she always read it and taught me something new every time. She taught me grammar (and still is), punctuation and endlessly nagged me (yes mum, nagged) to widen my vocabulary.
My mum is the reason I read and why my to-read pile is so tall now it collapsed the other day when my husband walked past it. She’s still the first reader of all of my work. I trust her implicably that she will tell me if my writing is a pile of crap and it won’t hurt our relationship one little bit.
My mum and me have always had a good relationship. When I was little, she was loving and always there for me. She made me laugh and smile and happy. She understood when I came home in tears for absolutely no good reason. She got angry for me when I couldn’t and protective of me when I needed her. She always answered every question I had openly and honestly.
And she still does.
She took me to the hairdressers to get my hair dyed black and then spent the following years dying it for me despite being scared of messing it up. Thanks mum – you always did a beautiful job.
She drove me to the body piercers to get my lip pierced, even though she didn’t approve – little did she know that it was her idea in the first place.
When I was 16 I wanted a boyfriend who had a lip ring and played guitar (I was so naive). My mum cleverly made the point that I shouldn’t want a man who can do things, I should make a point of doing them myself. It was a lesson that has stayed with me ever since. Of course, she meant for me to learn to play guitar. I listened to her, I took this on board and I got my lip pierced (sorry mum).
My mum taught me the importance of words and hugs. She is my inspiration, my guardian, my teacher and my best friend.
So my dad inspired my love of fantasy and science fiction and my mum made me a writer. Without the two of them, I wouldn’t be a fantasy writer. I might be a romance writer, or a film maker…both equally as interesting but not really me.
In celebration of Mothers Day and my mum’s birthday, we’re going on a mother/daughter adventure. So I’m afraid there won’t be a blog post on Friday, as me and my mum will be exploring Edinburgh and Scottish accents.